The Edge of Heaven and Hell
by Cobrilee
Summary: Stiles is on the verge of having everything he's ever wanted, but somehow when he wasn't paying attention, it stopped being enough. He never thought he'd be in the position of having to choose between the woman he's always loved, and the man who found a home in his heart. Second in the On the Edge series.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm so excited to finally start posting this! I've had it written for a while, but I stalled out on the third story in the series and didn't want to post this until that one was done (or at least very close to it). As I mentioned in the notes for The Edge of Everything, this series includes Stydia and Sterydia. If you're here simply for the Sterek you may not enjoy this, just as a warning. If you're like me and you adore both pairings, and think the three of them together would be hot as hell, by all means, keep reading. LOL Also, I know that sometimes leaving a public review on a rated-M story can feel uncomfortable, so please, feel free to PM me with any feedback you have. I really do want to know that people are reading and enjoying this, otherwise there's no point to me continuing to post it.**

"Stiles?"

"Mmm?"

"What on earth is wrong with you?"

Stiles looked up from his world history textbook, a highlighter half-hanging from his mouth. It took him a moment to refocus his attention on Lydia, who was staring at him in concern. She was sprawled across his bed with her calculus book spread out in front of her, but she had apparently given up on taking notes in favor of watching him. For what reason, he had no clue.

"Um, beyond the usual?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "You're shifting back and forth constantly, almost like you're in pain. As far as I know nothing has attacked any of us recently. So what's the problem?"

Stiles flushed uncomfortably. He was pretty sure Lydia wasn't ready for the truth-there were days he thought _he_ wasn't really ready for the truth. He definitely wasn't ready for everyone else to know, although he had no clue how he and Derek had managed to keep their… _thing_ , whatever it was, from Scott, Isaac, and even Peter for the last three months.

"Nothing," he lied. She eyed him skeptically but allowed the matter to drop so she could go back to her calculus notes.

Now that his concentration had been broken, Stiles watched her for a few minutes. He rarely took the opportunity to look at her anymore, _really_ look at her, and he found he'd missed it. He missed the way he had seen her as the center of his world, even though he recognized that it had been an unhealthy way of viewing her. She was a real person and he had never treated her as such, only as a goddess on a pedestal who was too good for everyone, much less him.

He was grateful for their friendship. He was grateful for the way her presence in his life had evolved. But he missed how special and precious she'd been to him, before. It wasn't that she was no longer special, but that he didn't look at her with the filter that she was unattainable and somehow mystical because of it. It made him wonder if he'd ever really loved her the way he thought he had.

"You're going to burn a hole through the top of my skull," she remarked suddenly, and Stiles jumped.

"How do you _do_ that?" he blurted, gaping at her.

"Do what?"

"How are you just so aware of everything that everyone around you is doing? You aren't even looking at me and you can tell I'm looking at you."

She glanced up again, tapping her pen against her lower lip as she considered his question. "It's a popular girl thing," she explained finally, and while the words would have sounded snotty and condescending a year ago, now they were simply matter-of-fact. "If I wanted to remain on top, I had to know what everyone else was saying and doing. Also, there's a certain feeling you get when someone is watching you, like it's touching your skin. Most of the time it makes my skin crawl, but sometimes it feels nice, comforting, like being out in the warm sunshine."

Stiles winced, wondering what end of the spectrum he fell on. Lydia saw it and half-smiled at him. "You're the sunshine, Stiles."

He tried hard to fight the blush that wanted to crawl up his neck, and he leaned backward in order to deflect her attention. Unfortunately he ended up squarely on his tailbone and he flinched, quickly shifting so that he was sitting mostly on his hip.

"Stiles. Seriously. The only time you ever fidget this much is when you've taken too much Adderall." She gave him a piercing look, almost daring him to lie to her again. He didn't even bother to try.

"My ass hurts," he answered truthfully. He was sitting on the floor with his back up against his dresser, facing the bed with Lydia on it, the way they always ended up. It had never been a question that she'd get the bed and he'd sit where he had the best view of her. Unfortunately, sitting on the hard floor was tougher than normal when his ass was so tender. Derek had been particularly rough with him that afternoon after lacrosse practice.

"Then get it up here," she responded, scooting over and patting the bed beside her. "I never intended to kick you out of your bed, anyway."

"And you think I'd kick _you_ out of my bed? Because I wouldn't," he countered. Then he realized exactly what he'd said and drew a hand down his face, sighing. "I didn't mean that."

She raised an eyebrow in amusement. "So you _would_ kick me out of your bed."

"No, damn it!" he sputtered. "I mean, yes! Hell, I don't know. I'd do whatever you wanted, I guess."

"Oh, really?" The cat-like grin that curved her ruby lips had him swallowing hard. He and Lydia might have become real, actual friends in the last year or so, and he might be having more than enough sex with Derek these days, but that didn't mean he was suddenly immune to her beauty or charm. He'd had to keep his feelings for her locked away in order to preserve the awesome friendship they'd developed, and now she was unlocking that hidden chamber and pulling them right back up to the surface.

"Lydia, don't," he said quietly, and she stared at him in surprise, her lips slightly parted. "You've known how I felt for a long time. Don't play with me because I'm falling victim to some hormonal teenage-boy brain meltdown. I have a beautiful woman in my bed, of course I'm going to say stupid shit." He was distantly impressed with his own maturity and ability to be forthright with her, but then, that had been a hallmark of their relationship long before they actually had a relationship.

Her face softened and she sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. With a decisive flick of her wrist she snapped her calculus book shut. He watched her warily, wondering just what was going through that beautiful, genius brain of hers. After a moment, she slid off the bed and took the three steps to cross over to him, sinking down on her knees and sitting back on her heels. It was reminiscent of their first kiss, though he disliked thinking of it like that because she was only trying to help snap him out of a panic attack. She hadn't done it because she wanted to, otherwise she probably would have done it again sometime in the six months since it happened.

"Stiles." He lifted his gaze from the fingers that were curled over her knees to see her watching him patiently. "Of course I know how you feel. I'm not stupid."

"Never said you were," he mumbled, dropping his gaze again. Her palms were pressed against her legs, right above her knees, and he pretended fascination with the way her hands looked so dainty against the purple material of her skirt.

Lydia was silent a moment and Stiles chanced a glance back up at her face, curious when he saw that she was biting her lip in quiet consideration. Before he could ask her what she was thinking, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. He stared at her, wide-eyed, as she pulled back and gave him a sweet smile. She lifted her hand to his face, cupping his cheek with her palm and stroking it gently with her thumb.

He covered it with his own, tentatively lacing his fingers between hers and feeling euphoric when she didn't immediately pull away. He held her gaze steadily, trying to read the tender expression in her eyes and failing. It was the first time he felt like maybe he didn't know her as well as he thought he did.

Then came the moment when Lydia tugged her hand loose from his and dropped it back to her knee. "I'm going to go home now, but I want you to think about something. This thing between us? You're not the only one who feels it." She stood up, brushing the wrinkles out of her skirt and picking up her textbook, notepad, and purse.

Belatedly, Stiles scrambled up after her. His mind was racing, trying to understand what she was saying and why, if she was saying what he _thought_ she was saying, she was leaving. "Don't go," he blurted, reaching a hand out to stop her.

She looked down at his fingers where they wrapped around her forearm, then back up at him. "I can't stay this time," she said, shaking her head ruefully. "You need to do some thinking before I can."

Stiles' brows furrowed. "I definitely don't need to think about wanting you to stay," he objected.

Lydia smiled patiently. "Sweetie, I've been spending the last four months coming to your house practically every other night to study. I've been in your bed more times than I was ever in Jackson's, and yet you always stay on the floor, next to your dresser. You're the one who has to figure out why you're so unwilling to cross the room."

"Wait, you _wanted_ me to? I mean, you actually wanted me in the bed _with_ you?" He was gaping at her, he knew, but the thought was so preposterous that he was having a hard time comprehending it. First Derek, and now Lydia. When had his luck changed so drastically?

She cocked her head and looked at him shrewdly. "The fact that you haven't yet picked up on that concerns me. Did that panic attack cut off the oxygen to your brain for too long?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, knowing the teasing was good-natured. "Ha, ha. As previously mentioned, I'm a teenaged boy. You'd pretty much have to take your shirt off and shove your boobs in my face for me to get the point."

"And here I thought you were so smart," she murmured, clucking her tongue in mock disappointment. He made a face at her and she grinned. "I suppose that means next time I'll have to go with a less subtle approach. Maybe I'll try it your way after all." She winked before slipping out the door, leaving a stupefied Stiles staring after her.

lllll

An hour later, Stiles found himself someplace that had become very familiar to him. He lifted his fist to knock on the door but second-guessed himself before his knuckles connected, instead putting them between his teeth and biting down in frustration. He wanted to be here. He did. But it wasn't fair to Derek to be used as a distraction from his confusion over Lydia.

The decision was taken away from him when Derek pulled the door open. "I feel a sense of déjà vu," he deadpanned, and Stiles brushed past him without acknowledging the dry wit.

"Is anyone else here? Is anyone else planning to be here soon?" Stiles asked, glancing around the loft.

Derek watched him carefully before replying. "No, I'm alone tonight."

"Not anymore." Stiles put his hands on Derek's face and pulled him in, their lips meeting hungrily. Derek hesitated for a split second before gripping the back of Stiles' head, holding him firm as his tongue thrust into Stiles' mouth and crashed against his. Stiles groaned softly and slid his fingers into Derek's hair, tightening them around the ebony strands. The kiss became almost desperately intense very quickly, and after a few moments Derek pulled away in confusion and concern.

"What's going on, Stiles?" he asked.

"Nothing. Nothing's going on. I just wanted to see you, okay? Or wait, is it _not_ okay? Am I breaking some unwritten rule here? Because it's not like we've really _defined_ what the hell we're doing, after all," Stiles snapped.

Derek frowned. "Of course not, you're always welcome here."

"Then stop stopping me," he muttered, grabbing the hem of Derek's white Henley and pulling it up his torso. Derek obliged by raising his arms so Stiles could finish removing it, but his eyes didn't leave the younger man's face. When Stiles attacked the drawstring on his navy pajama pants, Derek finally took a step back and held up a hand to stop Stiles from coming after him.

"Something is wrong," Derek said flatly. "Don't try to bullshit me and say there isn't. This isn't like you."

Stiles ran a frustrated hand through his hair, taking deep, shallow breaths to calm his erratic breathing. "It's just been… A hell of a day." He looked up at Derek guiltily. "I really did want to see you."

The wolf smiled. "I'm glad to hear it." The return sentiment, _I wanted to see you, too_ , was left unsaid, but by this point Stiles didn't need to hear Derek say it to know it was true. Derek wasn't comfortable with declarations of feelings or emotions, not the way Stiles was, but he'd become adept at showing them in other ways.

"Don't kick me out, okay? I need a time out from real life, at least for a little while." Stiles crossed his fingers that Derek would understand.

Derek slid an arm around his shoulders and led him over to the couch. "Why don't you come lay down with me? Chill out a little and get your heart rate down from a hundred miles an hour." He gave Stiles' shoulder a squeeze and sat down on the couch, pulling Stiles down with him.

Stiles kicked off his sneakers and swung his feet up on the couch so he could lay back, placing his head on Derek's thigh and staring up at the ceiling. He was quiet for once; too many thoughts were clouding his mind and he didn't feel inclined to share any of them. Thankfully, Derek's quiet nature kept him from pressing, despite knowing something had to be really eating at Stiles for him not to be chattering away.

Derek picked up his book and resumed reading, his fingers brushing lightly back and forth against Stiles' chest, almost absent-mindedly. Stiles had a flash of realization that this was what a relationship was like. They didn't have to be talking or making out or having sex. They just wanted to be together, each doing their own thing; Stiles lost in thought, Derek absorbed in his book. On the heels of that understanding came the thought that he and Lydia had been doing the same thing for months, only with them it was always homework or studying or researching the latest supernatural shenanigans. But the level of comfort of just being in each other's presence was one of the defining elements of their friendship.

Thinking about it made him feel guilty and he tensed up again. Derek simply pressed his palm to Stiles' heart, which had an oddly calming effect. Stiles relaxed and lifted his hand, covering Derek's with it; Derek spread his fingers apart and Stiles' naturally laced together with them. They stayed in that position for several minutes without making a sound, other than the rasp of Derek's thumb against the pages of his book as he flipped from one to the next. Stiles tilted his head back just a fraction, enough to look up at Derek's face, and he caught the other man glancing down at him for a moment. Their eyes met, Derek smiled briefly, and then his attention returned to the book once more.

"What are you reading?" Stiles asked, his voice so soft that it barely disrupted the silence surrounding them.

Derek's lips twitched as he tried unsuccessfully to fight back a smirk. " _White Fang_ ," he replied finally.

Stiles snorted. "You are so clichéd it isn't even funny."

"Do you want to go home?" Derek asked mildly, and Stiles slammed his mouth shut.

"Actually, I want you to read to me," he replied, somewhat hesitantly. It was kind of an odd request, but the sound of Derek's voice was so soothing that he just wanted to bask in it for a little while.

Derek lifted an eyebrow but didn't object. He scanned the page, trying to find his place, and once he had, he began to read aloud.

"All night he ran, blundering in the darkness into mishaps and obstacles that delayed but did not daunt. By the middle of the second day he had been running continuously for thirty hours, and the iron of his flesh was giving out. It was the endurance of his mind that kept him going."

As Derek read, Stiles could feel his eyelids drifting shut. He was _so_ tired. "We're White Fang," he mumbled sleepily, and Derek paused in his reading.

"What do you mean?"

"All of us. Scott, Allison, me, you… Lydia. We're all White Fang. We just keep running, no matter what happens, even when we want to give up, we don't. We keep going, because we have to endure."

Derek stared at the young man who was half-asleep in his lap. "I sometimes forget just exactly how smart you are," he murmured, his tone apologetic. Stiles attempted a shrug, but he was already closer to asleep than awake, so Derek resumed reading.

"He had not eaten in forty hours, and he was weak with hunger. The repeated drenchings in the icy water likewise had their effect on him. His handsome coat was draggled. The broad pads of his feet were bruised and bleeding. He had begun to limp, and this limp increased with the hours…"

By that point Stiles was fully asleep, his breaths coming evenly, and Derek's voice trailed off. Stiles' hand had gone limp and his hold on Derek's had relaxed, sliding off enough that he was able to lift it and place it on Stiles' head. His fingers worked through the thick brown hair steadily, and he paused in his reading, glancing down at his sleeping pack-mate. The tender, affectionate smile that spread across his face was unmistakable, and Derek wondered how much longer he would be able to fool the rest of their pack. It was certain he could no longer fool himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: For those of you who are here only for the Sterek, you may want to consider skipping this chapter, as it's pure Stydia. Derek/Sterek is discussed, but otherwise he doesn't appear. I hope that everyone still reading this isn't bothered by that fact because I made it clear in both EoE and the first chapter of EoHaH that Stydia and Sterydia would be part of this series, but I figured I would give a warning just in case.**

It was several days later when Lydia returned for their standard night-time study session. Stiles heard the doorbell ring and his heart jumped, but he knew his dad was downstairs to get the door so he remained in his usual seat by the dresser.

He listened intently as his dad welcomed Lydia in and shut the door behind her. "He's upstairs, Lydia. Try to make sure he actually studies something besides the Bestiary for once, okay?"

Lydia laughed, a bright sparkling sound that made Stiles' stomach twist. "I'll do my best, Sheriff Stilinski."

"I have to go back to the office for a little while and do some more paperwork cleanup from you kids' run-in with the Voquila spirit. Have fun, I left some cash for you two to order a pizza if you need to. Remind Stiles I'll be late, just in case he's forgotten."

Stiles laughed quietly at his dad's easy exchange with Lydia. It was so different than how he'd been at first; polite, but somewhat stern. Stiles had cornered his dad about it after about two weeks. _That_ had been a fun conversation.

" _Dad, what gives? You've been giving Lydia the cold shoulder for weeks now. She's going to think you don't like her."_

 _The Sheriff ran his hand over his hair, blowing out an uncomfortable breath. "Uh, Stiles, look. I know we've already had The Talk, but I guess I'm just not sure how crazy I am about you and the Martin girl spending so much time alone together when I'm not here. I'm not ready to be a grandfather."_

 _Stiles shook his head, waving a hand in front of his face to cut his father off. "No, Dad. We're literally_ just _studying. I love Lydia, but it's not like that. We're friends. Best friends, practically."_

" _But you'd like to be_ more _than friends," he said intuitively._

 _"Nah, nah, it's…" At the Sheriff's knowing stare, Stiles buckled. "Yeah. Yeah, I would. But I'm just Stiles to her. Stiles, her friend, her study buddy. She's not writing Mrs. Lydia Stilinski all over her notebooks, is what I'm saying."_

It had been one of those conversations filled with truths that could so easily be painful, if he really let himself think about it. So he hadn't. He'd shoved the Feelings into the box and pushed it to the back of his mind, and the study sessions had quickly become routine and easy, but not filled with unresolved sexual tension or pathetic longing.

Ever since then, the Sheriff had warmed up to Lydia and now treated her like he did Scott, as if she was just another of Stiles' friends and no more a threat to his grandchild-less state than anyone else. Which, _that_ didn't sting at all or anything. Maybe he wasn't anxious to have kids at his age either, but it would be nice if there was at least an _opportunity_ for a pregnancy scare or something.

He was startled out of his train of thought when Lydia eased into his room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Her purse was over her shoulder and her AP English book was in hand, and if she was disappointed to see him sitting on the floor, she didn't show it at all. She toed her three-inch royal blue sandals off by the end of his bed and settled on to it the way she always did. "Your dad said to remind you he's going to be late," she informed him, tucking her legs up under her and flipping the book open.

"Yeah, I remember. More paperwork. I feel bad for him, always having to clean up our messes."

She tilted her head a little bit. "Maybe, but I get the sense that he likes being able to help out in his own way. It must be frustrating to have to watch your teenaged son and his friends come save the day all the time and not be able to do much to protect them."

Stiles sighed. "As usual, you hit the nail on the head. Just don't say anything like that to _him_ , okay? The man doesn't need a hammer whack to his fragile ego."

Lydia grinned. "I have a feeling that his ego is solid enough to withstand a hammer whack, Stiles. But I like him too much to risk it, so my lips are sealed."

"Glad to hear it," he replied with a snort. The conversation trailed off and he looked down at his anatomy and physiology book, but the diagrams staring up at him all blurred together. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lydia paging through her own book, pausing every few moments to make a note of something. "What are you reading?"

" _The Scarlet Letter_ ," she replied, distracted.

"Wait, didn't you already read that freshman year?"

She looked up at him in surprise. "You remember that? We weren't even friends then."

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed. "I saw you reading it in the car one day, when your mom stopped by my dad's office to get her fingerprints taken for her background check. I wanted to go over and say hi to you, but I was nervous so I just started waving, and you didn't even look at me. So I tried to see what you were reading so I could read it and talk to you about it later, but it was boring as shit and I forgot about it. Which is surprising, really, because it had illicit sex in it. You'd have thought it was right up my alley, but no."

Lydia laughed softly. "I can't believe you tried to read _The Scarlet Letter_ for me."

He inhaled slowly, attempting to steady his nerves, before standing up. She watched him curiously and he took a step toward her, then another, then the final one that put him directly in front of her. His knees were touching the edge of the bed and she looked up at him with wide, inquisitive eyes. "I would have done anything to get your attention, Lydia. It was all I wanted for as long as I could remember."

He sank down onto the bed beside her and she shifted so she was facing him. "There are a lot of reasons why I never tried to move away from my dresser, but the biggest one is that I still remember that girl who never saw me waving, no matter how hard I tried. It didn't even cross my mind that maybe you were trying to wave at me this time."

Smiling slightly, she reached out and took his hand. "Maybe it wasn't so much of a wave as it was a finger crook. But yes, you missed it entirely."

Stiles let out a half-laugh, curling his fingers around hers. It felt so odd, and yet so damn right, to be sitting with her, holding her hand. And in the next breath, he felt horribly guilty. He couldn't do anything until he was honest with her.

"There's something I need to tell you," he began, his words coming slowly.

"Of course there is," she groaned, tipping her head back before sighing and straightening back up to look at him. "All right, let's get it over with."

He hesitated. "I need you to promise me that this doesn't leave this room. This isn't just my story to tell, but I have to before anything else happens between us."

The curiosity was dancing in her eyes, but all she said was, "Of course," with a quick squeeze of his fingers.

Stiles blew out a breath, his mouth forming an 'o' before the air gushed out. "I've sort of been involved with someone." He could feel her tense and try to pull her fingers back, but he held onto them firmly and gazed steadily into her eyes. "We've kept it quiet from everyone because it's only been a friends with benefits thing and we didn't want anyone freaking out."

"How nice for you," she responded stiffly. "At least you're getting your needs met."

"Lydia." He waited patiently until she was willing to meet his eyes. "I love you. I always have. But I didn't think this, us, would ever happen. You can't be upset with me for not waiting for what could have been indefinitely."

She nodded reluctantly. "I get it. That doesn't mean I have to like hearing about you sleeping with another girl."

He winced. "Yeah, about that. It hasn't been another girl." Her eyes widened and he plowed ahead before her imagination could start running wild. "It's Derek."

She stared at him in shock before bursting into laughter. "Derek. _Our_ Derek? Broody, hardass, 'I think I'm going to smash your face into the steering wheel just because it sounds fun' _Derek_?"

"Thank you for reminding me," he grumbled, making a face at her. "It shocked the hell out of me too, okay? I never expected it. But somehow it just kind of happened, and it's been happening for a few months."

It took several minutes before she was able to formulate her next question. She sat there, her eyes unseeing as she stared at her hands, folded together on her lap. Stiles waited her out, not wanting to rush or upset her. Finally she looked up at him. "Why are you telling me this?"

Stiles was taken aback. "Why wouldn't I?"

"You admitted it yourself, this isn't just your story to tell. I highly doubt Derek would be pleased to find out you shared something so private with me."

He ran a hand through his hair anxiously. "I don't think he will be, either. But I couldn't _not_ be honest with you. You don't deserve to be lied to."

She looked at him consideringly. "What do you expect is going to happen here?"

His mouth fell open and flapped like a fish for a moment, words failing him for once. "I don't _expect_ anything is going to happen here," he finally managed. "But unless I'm just clueless, which we've established is a real possibility, there's actually something between us, so something _might_ happen, at least eventually. And if it does, I couldn't let that be weighing on my conscience."

"So you risked me rejecting you, just to be honest with me about something that happened before you had any clue I have feelings for you?"

"Well, yeah." He blinked at her in confusion. "I mean, it's not like I had a random fling with some girl you don't know. I'm having sex, a lot of it, with a guy. One who's part of our pack. I couldn't keep that from you."

A small smile appeared on her face, spreading quickly as she slid her fingers back between his. "And I don't care. I mean, yes, I'm honestly shocked because it's not something I ever imagined in a million years. But I'm not going to change my mind about you because of it." She paused, grinning impishly. "I'm assuming you're still attracted to women, though. Right?"

He shook his head solemnly, and she tilted hers in surprise. "I'm not attracted to _women_ ," he explained. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "I'm attracted to _a_ woman. Singular. The most beautiful woman I've ever known." He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed them to her knuckles.

"Smooth, Stilinski," she murmured faintly. "Incredibly smooth. I didn't think you had it in you."

"What can I say? You inspire me." He tugged on her hand, pulling her upper body in toward him.

"To do what?" she asked coyly, her lips hovering centimeters from his.

"This," he breathed, slanting his mouth over hers. She melted into him as his lips tenderly moved against hers, soft and warm and tasting so damn good. Her arms came up to encircle his neck and he slid an arm around her waist, lifting her and depositing her carefully in his lap. She tightened her arms and her body melded against his.

The feel of her breasts crushed into his chest made him groan into her mouth. "God, Lyds, you're killing me," he mumbled against her lips.

She nipped at his lower lip. "Don't get too carried away just yet. I have plans for you tonight and I need you to be able to keep up with me."

"I'm pretty sure keeping up will not be a problem whatsoever," he responded dryly.

Lydia slid her hand between their bodies and down to where his erection pressed into his stomach. "I believe you," she teased, her voice sultry. "I just want to make sure you can keep it up long enough to do everything I've been imagining you doing to me for the last several months."

Stiles growled and plunged his hands into her silky red tresses, his fingertips wrapping around the back of her head and pulling her back into him. His tongue slid between her lips and when it met hers, he felt like his heart was going to explode in his chest. She tilted her chin up, deepening the kiss and curling her tongue around his while simultaneously stroking him through his pants. He twitched, and silently said a grateful prayer that his experiences with Derek had increased his stamina and holding power.

Releasing his grip on her head, he withdrew his hands from her hair and lifted her out of his lap before settling her back on the bed next to him. She lifted confused eyes to his and he smiled darkly, moving his body toward and over hers until she was instinctively laying back. He followed her body with his, feeling his blood fire like it was made of kerosene and someone had tossed a lighted match into it. Her head hit the pillow, their gazes still locked on each other, and he swallowed the lump that sprang into his throat.

"I love you," he murmured, and she smiled up at him softly.

"I know. I've always known. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure out that I love you, too."

The words speared through him, stealing his breath and making his heart stutter to a stop for a brief second before restarting and pounding harder than he'd ever felt. He surged forward, his hips sliding into the cradle of her thighs and nestling against her, and fused his lips with hers. Her fingers wound through his hair as she tipped her head up in order to accept and return the kiss with equal fervor.

Stiles' hand slipped below the edge of her silky top, his thumb rubbing in circles over the sensitive skin of her hip. She moaned and arched up, her lower body pressing tightly against his, and he bit into her lip.

"Careful," she said breathlessly. "You may not be a wolf, but I have a feeling you're still dangerous."

"Never with you, Lydia," he whispered, his lips skimming over her face, dropping kisses along her forehead and the bridge of her nose. He nuzzled his nose into the hair at her temple, pressing light kisses along her jaw before coming back up to entwine his tongue with hers once more.

Her hands left his hair, reaching down instead to tug at the hem of his t-shirt. He pulled back and allowed her to lift the shirt over his head, baring his chest to her ravenous gaze. The pure emotion on her face would have brought him to his knees if he wasn't already on them, and he had to duck his head to avoid becoming overwhelmed by his own joy.

Lips found collarbone and he feathered them over the soft skin from one side to the other. Her breath caught in her throat and he felt a surge of love for the gorgeous woman beneath him, marveling at how he'd been so blessed to be granted not one, but two incredible partners.

"Stiles, sweetie, this is great and all, but I've been waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass for months. Could we get to the part where we're both naked?" Lydia asked, despite her sharp inhale when Stiles' lips traveled to the valley between her breasts.

"Absolutely," he replied. "I'm definitely down with the getting naked part." He drew back enough for her to sit up and he slid his palms around her waist, drawing them slowly upward and pulling the silky blue top with them. His hands skimmed her ribs, the sides of her breasts, and underneath her arms as he worked the material up. She slowly lifted her arms and he slid his hands over them, pressing his lips to her inner arm as the shirt cleared her fingertips. Her breasts were round and firm, thrust upward by a black satin demi bra, and he cupped them with his palms. Fingers swiped over the nipples that were just barely budding against the material and Lydia bit her lip, inhaling a shuddery breath. With maddening care, he reached behind her and pulled the hooks loose one by one, then drew the straps slowly down her arms, exposing the pale, pink-tipped flesh to his appreciative gaze.

Stiles felt her heartbeat flutter when he wrapped his palms around her ribcage, just below her breasts, and pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat. His thumbs stroked the undersides of her breasts leisurely as his mouth migrated downward, sprinkling butterfly kisses across her skin until he reached the hardened peaks of her nipples. Lydia arched up off the bed when his lips closed over one and he laved it with his tongue, while palming the other breast and kneading it. He scraped his tongue over the sensitive flesh and tweaked her other nipple with his fingertips, pinching lightly, and she squirmed underneath him.

"Stiles," she gasped. "I'm sufficiently worked up now. Foreplay is overrated, anyway." She paused, continuing with difficulty. "Not all the time, mind you. Rarely, actually. But tonight? Tonight it's definitely overrated."

He smiled against her breast, sinking his teeth carefully into the soft mound of flesh, and she squeaked. Moving his attention to the other breast, Stiles allowed his hand to drift further south. Her legs were parted invitingly and his fingertips slid underneath her skirt and between her thighs, encountering a surprising amount of wetness. "Apparently," he murmured wickedly, slipping two fingers inside her and curling them backward. He started when he realized he'd encountered no obstacles. "Wait, have you not been wearing underwear this whole time?" he gaped incredulously.

Lydia let out a muffled scream when his fingertip brushed her G-spot. "I thought maybe you'd get the hint if you saw a flash of something, but you had your head buried in your books most of the time. Now how in God's name do you know how to do this?" she panted, spreading her legs a little further to give him better access. "I'm pretty sure you never fingered Derek."

He grinned. "I'm a teenage boy, Lyds. I watch a lot of porn. And maybe it's not all that realistic, but it definitely gave me a lot of ideas."

"Ideas are good," she hissed as his fingers drew back and then plunged forward again. He set up a steady rhythm, reaching up to kiss her thoroughly while he teased her close to the edge of orgasm. She broke away with a shuddery gasp, her hands fisting in his sheets, and his lips skimmed down her neck. "OhdearGodStiles," she breathed out harshly, and he groaned.

"I will never get tired of hearing you say my name like that," he mumbled against her throat. He pressed his thumb to her clit, rubbing it in circles while his fingers continued to thrust into her, and her hips came up off the bed. She strained to get closer to his fingers and mewled in disappointment when he pulled them back. Moving down the bed, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her skirt and pulled it down to bare her tanned, silky legs. Her arousal was strong enough that he didn't even need werewolf senses to breathe it in, and she let out a strangled groan when he moved her thighs apart and pressed his mouth to her hot, aching core.

"God, Stiles, don't stop," she pleaded.

Shaking his head as if to say, _I could never_ , he flickered his tongue across the tiny, sensitized bundle of nerves. Lydia's hands slid into his hair and tugged gently, pulling him further into her. He drew his tongue up between her lips, collecting all the fluid that had gathered there before flattening it against her clit and licking her with long, slow strokes.

"Oh fuck, I'm going to come!" she groaned, and Stiles was instantly aroused even further. He'd never heard the classy, elegant Lydia drop an F-bomb, and it shot a bolt of heat straight to his groin. Two fingers found their way back into her, and he pumped them hard while simultaneously feasting on her clit like a starving man. Her breathing became erratic and choppy until she began panting, her legs shaking from the pressure of the sensations building within her. Then she threw her head back as she burst, her body convulsing and cutting off her cries of pleasure in short gasps.

Stiles took his time cleaning her up with his tongue, waiting for the tremors in her legs to die down. Once she was breathing somewhat normally again he lifted himself up and laid down beside her, laying his palm on her stomach and feeling the rise and fall as she breathed in and out. He was still in his jeans and he was painfully hard, his cock trapped behind layers of cotton and denim, but he wanted to bask in her afterglow for a moment before making it apparent he was ready to have his needs met.

This was Lydia, though, so he shouldn't have worried. She turned in his arms and wrapped hers around his back, throwing one leg over his thigh and rubbing herself against the bulge in his jeans. "Don't think you're getting by with just going down on me," she purred seductively. "I expect the whole package tonight. Literally."

Stiles let out a muffled laugh. "I love you. And there's no way I'm letting you out of my bed before I've made sure this particular fantasy has come true."

She smiled prettily, running her hand down his chest and to the waistband of his jeans. Deftly, she undid the button and then impatiently yanked the zipper down. When the pressure on his aching cock had eased he groaned in semi-relief, then groaned for an entirely different reason when Lydia's small hand reached inside his briefs and gripped him firmly.

"I would never have thought of you as a briefs man," she mused. "I would have figured boxers."

Blushing, he admitted that he was. "But Derek likes the briefs." He watched her eyes, wondering what her reaction would be. She hadn't freaked out too much when he'd disclosed his relationship with the wolf, but that didn't mean she'd appreciate the reminders of their closeness.

She didn't disappoint him. "He's a smart man," she said flippantly. "Boxers disguise all the good stuff." Her hands moved around to his backside and she grabbed a handful of his ass, squeezing. "Now get them off."

Chuckling, Stiles reached down and pushed his jeans and underwear over his hips. Lydia eyed him ravenously as he shucked the garments, leaving him fully naked beside her. He rolled back into her, his cock tight against her stomach. "Is that better?" he kidded.

She shot him an exasperated look. "It'll be better when we're actually having sex instead of you torturing me," she retorted. "I know you like to run your mouth, but why don't you let the rest of your body do the talking for once?"

"Your wish is my command," he said grandly. "If I were standing I'd bow, but, y'know, laying down. And naked. Naked bowing would be weird."

"STILES!"

"Okay!" He mimed zipping his lips and she rolled her eyes. Then, without warning, the goofy, wise-cracking boy slipped away and the seductive, passionate man was leaning over her. His fingertips skimmed between her breasts and down her abdomen, followed closely by his lips. Brushing them lightly across her stomach, he took his time, working his way lower until his mouth was covering her core. His tongue delved between her lower lips, stroking firmly until she was wet once again.

Once she was, in his opinion, sufficiently ready, he moved back up until his body was covering hers. Her eyes lifted to his face and he couldn't take his off of her. Settling himself between her thighs, he reached down and positioned his cock at her entrance, sliding into her just a little.

"You're not playing fair," she grumbled, lifting her hips to push him deeper.

Stiles dropped his face to her neck, grinning against the pale skin while simultaneously nipping at it. "Maybe I just want to make you wait for it like I had to," he teased, moving his hips forward a fraction.

"You know if you keep making me wait then _you'll_ have to wait even longer, right?" she pointed out dryly. "There's no way in which you win this."

"But you're wrong," he contradicted her solemnly. He eased forward, burying himself in her inch by tantalizing, excruciatingly slow inch. "You're in my arms right now. There's no way in which I _don't_ win this."

Lydia whimpered as he filled her, her nails digging into his shoulders. Her head tipped back into the pillow and she bit her lip to keep from crying out when he pulled back and then thrust forward, a little faster this time but still too slow. Stiles turned his head, lifting her hand in his and pressing his lips to the center of her palm, sinking his teeth into the pad of flesh below her thumb. He could feel a rush of wetness around him and he smiled against her skin, driving forward sharply.

"Oh God, Stiles," she cried out, twining her legs around his waist and holding on tight. He sank onto his knees and grabbed her thighs, curving his fingers around the satiny skin and holding on firmly as he rocked into her, his hips colliding with hers roughly. "Fuck, sweetie, dear God, yes!"

Emotion clogged his throat despite the intense pleasure. He'd never thought in a million lifetimes that he'd get to experience this, this moment of pure perfection with the woman he'd loved since he was too young to know what love really was. It made the heady sensations rushing through him so much better, and he was determined to return the joy she was surrounding him with. His hands trailed from her thighs back up to her hips, his fingers biting into them briefly before wrapping his arms around her back and lifting her.

She squeaked in surprise when she was transitioned from being on her back to sitting in Stiles' lap, feeling him piston into her. Lydia threw her head back, her lips parting as wordless gasps were torn from her throat, and she threw her arms around his neck and held on for dear life as he continued to thrust upward.

After a few moments she gathered her legs beneath her so that she was kneeling over his thighs, her knees clenching his hips, and he looked at her in surprise. Grinning mischievously, she tumbled into him so that he landed on his back, following him down. Without breaking stride, she continued to move against him, working her hips frantically while her hands scrambled to find purchase on his chest.

Stiles choked out a laugh at the unexpected, totally-Lydia-like move. She would never be content to stay on the bottom and let him call the shots, and he loved that about her. He watched her face as she rode him, curling his hands around her ass and pulling her harder down onto him as he drove upward repeatedly.

He could feel when her orgasm began to crescendo and he reached between them, his thumb brushing over her clit over and over again until he took pity on her and began rubbing it firmly. She cried out, her legs starting to quiver as her body rocked forward with a new desperation. "Come for me, Lydia," he murmured, and she bit down on her lip almost hard enough to draw blood. He increased the pressure of his thumb and she moved faster, beads of sweat rolling into the hair at her temples. Her skin was dewy and Stiles wanted to taste it, so he sat up in order to swirl his tongue over her nipple, pulling it gently between his teeth.

It was enough to send her crashing over the edge with a wail of ecstasy. She continued to shudder over him as the aftershocks shot through her nerve endings, and the rhythmic contractions of her body milked the orgasm from Stiles'. Stiffening, he cried out hoarsely as his lower body arched up and he emptied himself into her. He held himself still until he was finally drained, then relaxed enough to collapse back onto the bed. From his position, he realized his head was now at the foot of his bed and he laughed softly at their acrobatics.

Lydia sprawled over him, his softening cock still partially inside her. Her nose was buried in the crook of his neck, her mouth curving up against his collarbone, and she was humming happily. "That was incredible, Stiles," she murmured. "I always suspected you would surprise me, but that exceeded even my expectations."

A huge grin broke out over his face and he lifted his hand to smooth it lovingly over her silky hair. "I always knew you'd exceed mine," he murmured back, pressing his lips to the side of her head.

"God, listen to us," she groaned in mock disgust as she rolled off to lie beside him. "This sappiness is so saccharine my teeth hurt."

He chuckled as he grabbed his pillow with his feet and flipped it up, snatching it from mid-air with his hand and tucking it under his head. She reached down to the floor for the dislodged comforter and tugged it over them while Stiles' arms banded around her, pulling her tightly into his side. "You're just not used to someone actually being considerate to you," he challenged. "But you're going to have to get used to it, because I'm not going anywhere."

Lydia snuggled deeper into him, throwing her arm loosely over his stomach and her leg over his thighs. "You damn well better not," she muttered sleepily. "You're mine now."

Stiles smiled as Lydia curled into him like a kitten and drifted off. "I always was, Lyds," he whispered, kissing the top of her head and closing his eyes, joining her in sleep a few moments later.

 **A/N 2: I know there are people who will be upset that Stiles "cheated" on Derek, but I don't actually consider them together-Stiles even states that they're friends with benefits. Don't be too upset with me because as I mentioned before, Sterydia will be a thing. This is just a temporary setback for Sterek, I promise. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: If you've gotten this far, you likely understand that this series isn't purely Sterek, and it isn't purely Stydia. I've said before that ultimately it will become Sterydia, and in my mind that was pretty clear, but for those of you who didn't make the connection, that means Stiles+Derek+Lydia. This chapter is almost strictly Sterek (Stydia is mentioned, but Lydia doesn't appear), so if you aren't interested in reading the next story in which Sterydia becomes a thing, this is it for the Sterek alone.**

Stiles avoided Derek for the next three days. He knew the wolf in him would be able to scent out the changes in his body, possibly even still smell the traces of Lydia on him, and he wanted to make sure that Derek didn't smell it before he was ready to tell him. Not that he was going to lie to Derek. He just didn't want to walk in and have his scent tell the story before he could even open his mouth.

When he felt prepared for the conversation slash possible argument slash maybe even fight, he steeled himself and aimed his Jeep in the direction of the loft. This time he didn't hesitate, didn't even bother to knock. He pulled the door open, stepped in, and slid it shut. When he turned around he nearly jumped out of his skin to see Derek standing there in nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips, smirking at him while he toweled his hair dry. He didn't need wolf senses to smell the distinctly masculine essence that Derek had always exuded. Stiles swallowed, fighting the desire that wanted to take him by the throat and make him surrender.

"So you _do_ still know where I live," Derek remarked, his mild tone belying the bite behind the words.

"Yeah, of course. I've just been a little busy the past few days," he explained, knowing even as the words came out of his mouth that they were lame and Derek would see right through them.

Whether he did or not, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he smiled, and the beauty of it felt like a sucker-punch to Stiles' gut. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to seeing that grin directed at him-and after today, he was afraid he'd never see it again, period. "I'm glad your schedule cleared up for an afternoon, then," he said lightly, and Stiles nearly winced.

"I'm actually not here to have sex," he started uncomfortably, and Derek's grin broadened.

"Really?" He turned as if to walk away and Stiles groaned when the towel dropped to the floor, baring the world's most perfect ass for his viewing pleasure.

"Jesus, Derek. When did you turn into a flirt?" he muttered in exasperation. "What happened to the grumpy, scowly wolf who would just as soon growl at someone as tolerate their presence?"

Derek turned to face him and shrugged. "He's still there. But I think we're past that now, don't you?" Stiles was still staring at his gorgeous body, trying to remember why he was here. Derek chuckled. "You can't lie to me, Stiles," he reminded the younger man gently. "Your body is telling me right now how much you want this."

"Of course I want it!" Stiles burst out. "But I can't. Not now."

Derek advanced on him and Stiles stood his ground, fighting the urge to swallow again. He knew the slightest motion would betray him. "Why?" Derek demanded. He worked his fingers through Stiles' hair, which Stiles had learned he loved to play with, and leaned in to feather light kisses below his ear and down his jaw line. "Is it because we aren't actually together yet? Because if that's the case-"

"I slept with Lydia!" Stiles blurted out, and Derek jerked back, his eyes expressing his hurt before turning ice cold. "I know we aren't together, but I had to tell you."

"In an effort to clear your own conscience," Derek surmised coolly.

"No. Because you don't deserve to be lied to," Stiles shot back. "Maybe we haven't made any kind of commitment to each other, but you know damn well we actually care about each other. Just because you want to pretend it's just sex doesn't mean it's okay for me to screw around without at least being upfront."

Derek took a step back, leveling a hard glare at him before turning around to stare sightlessly out the window. Stiles came up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder apologetically. "I love her, Derek, you know that. I always have."

Derek whirled on him, pushing him back until he hit the curio cabinet so hard that it shook. Several of the more fragile items fell over and Stiles could hear the sound of them shattering through his utter shock at Derek's violent reaction. "Of course I knew!" he seethed. "But Lydia wasn't the one you were begging to fuck you senseless. She wasn't _there_."

"She is now," Stiles replied softly, and Derek's anger deflated immediately, to be replaced with an air of what could almost be called sorrow.

"I always knew she would be, eventually." He rubbed a hand over his face. "She's not a stupid woman. It was only a matter of time before she figured out what she had."

Stiles was touched by the admission, which was the closest Derek had ever gotten to expressing any real feelings for him. Tenderly, he allowed his hand to slide up Derek's chest and then curve over his cheek. "For what it's worth, I'm not a stupid guy," he said simply. "I figured out a long time ago exactly what I have."

Their eyes locked for a long moment, which felt like an eternity but was in reality mere seconds. Then with a muttered, "Fuck it," Derek grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him forward, crushing their mouths together. Their tongues crashed into each other, both of them desperate to win, each of them knowing this would be their last time together and wanting to make it the most memorable.

Derek pulled impatiently at Stiles' t-shirt, their lips still doing battle, and eventually he grabbed it by the collar and yanked downward. The sound of the material shredding didn't register with either of them, but Stiles was dimly aware that he was now able to shrug the torn shirt from his shoulders, letting it slide down his arms to drop and pool at his feet. When Derek seemed determined to do the same to his jeans, Stiles pulled back with a breathless laugh.

"Hold on," he gasped, fumbling with the button and zipper, struggling to get them down before Derek ruined the rest of his clothing. Derek growled, and Stiles shook his head in amusement. "I can't go home naked, and while I can borrow a shirt, your jeans wouldn't stay up around my narrow hips."

"There's nothing wrong with your hips." He slid his hands inside the waistband and pushed Stiles' jeans and briefs down. His palms were immediately full and he squeezed, making Stiles moan in return. This time when Derek slammed him into the cabinet he hardly felt it, as frantic as he was to divest himself of the remainder of his clothing. He kicked off his jeans and looped his arms around Derek's neck, pulling the wolf flush against him and grinding their erections together. Derek swore into Stiles' mouth and reached down to close his fingers around the younger man's cock, stroking roughly.

A guttural groan burst from Stiles' throat when Derek suddenly hit his knees, sliding his mouth over Stiles' hard length and pumping his fist as he bobbed his head up and down. Stiles wound his fingers through the ebony strands, tightening them into fists and yanking none-too-gently. Derek growled again and Stiles thrilled at the sound of it. He watched hungrily as Derek continued to swallow him over and over again until he began to tremble.

"Jesus, Derek, I'm going to come," he panted, loosening his grip on Derek's hair and moving his hands to the other man's shoulders. "You have to stop."

Derek shook his head gently so as not to hurt Stiles, but the message was clear. _No way in hell_. Stiles fought to resist, but the pleasure was too intense to hold back for long. With a hoarse shout he erupted, his orgasm tearing through him and spilling down Derek's throat. He blinked in amazement when Derek swallowed without batting an eye. They'd had any number of experiences together but he'd never come in Derek's mouth before, and his willingness to do it now was oddly touching. When Derek stood up, the look that passed between the two of them communicated everything they both knew they couldn't say.

Then Derek pulled him back in for another kiss, this one as demanding as all of their previous ones. Stiles always loved the primal, raw need between the two of them; it was heady and intoxicating. This once, though, he wanted something a little more emotional. His eyes flickered over to the area of the loft that served as the "bedroom", and Derek immediately read his mind. "Bed. Now," he whispered fiercely, and Stiles led the way with Derek close on his heels.

As they approached the bed Derek advanced on him, pushing him back toward it. He tumbled backward into a cocoon of luxuriousness, consisting of burgundy silk sheets and a dark gray mink blanket. It was one of Stiles' favorite things in the loft, and Derek always made sure it was clean for him. "I'm going to make sure this night stays with you for the rest of your life," Derek murmured, and Stiles felt himself begin to harden once more.

"I will never forget," he returned, his voice equally as quiet. "I _couldn't_ forget."

Derek visibly fought to maintain his composure, his eyes briefly flashing an electric blue. Stiles thought, not for the first time, that this was when his friend was the most beautiful. When that unguarded emotion slipped through and he reminded himself and everyone else that he was as human and capable of love as anyone else, it was truly like seeing the sunshine through the storm.

"Come here," he demanded throatily, and Derek immediately complied. His larger body covered Stiles as he slid forward, his fingers trailing up the younger man's ribs until they curved around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Stiles eagerly accepted it, tugging Derek's lower lip in between his teeth and biting firmly. Derek groaned and rubbed his erection against Stiles' before rising up onto his hip and nudging him to roll over.

Stiles was always the bottom, which never bothered him. Derek was his alpha in every way and he loved the way it felt having the wolf inside him. This time, though, he didn't want to be taken on his hands and knees; despite having no clue what Derek would think of his request, he was determined for their last time to be different. Hesitantly, he spread his legs and tilted his hips up, waiting for Derek to understand what he was asking for.

Derek's eyebrows drew together when he made the connection. "Are you sure?" he asked softly, and Stiles nodded. Fire leapt into Derek's eyes and he reached for the bedside table where he kept a bottle of lube, squeezing out a generous amount and spreading it liberally over his cock. He prepped Stiles as he always did, using his fingers to smooth it over the puckered ring of muscles.

Leaning forward, he pressed the head of his cock against Stiles' ass and pushed inside easily. Stiles groaned as he took Derek's full length in one smooth stroke, and then the other man was hovering over him, his arms taut in order to hold himself up. Stiles lifted his hips, wrapping his legs around Derek's waist loosely, allowing him the necessary freedom of motion. Derek eased back and then thrust forward roughly, sliding his hand over Stiles' cock simultaneously. The pounding in his ass and the friction on his erection intensified his pleasure and Stiles' gasp was trapped in his throat; he couldn't breathe as Derek continued to drive into him punishingly.

His eyes drifted shut and his lips parted, soft noises escaping on a hiss of air, and then Derek's mouth was covering his. He tangled his fingers in Derek's hair and kissed him with all the passion he could pour into it. His lungs screamed, starved for oxygen, and still he refused to let go until Derek broke the kiss instead. Stiles' chest heaved as he struggled to inhale deeply enough.

Derek's hips pistoned forward and he reached in between their bodies to grip Stiles' cock once more. His strokes were firm and demanding, and Stiles could feel himself trembling in anticipation of his climax. "Fuck, Derek," he ground out, sweat running into the hair at his temples. "I'm so fucking close!"

Derek was, too, and he added a twist to his wrist motion to send Stiles over the edge. Stiles came with a jerk, his cock jetting out streams of sticky white fluid, and Derek immediately followed. He let out a long, low groan when his body stiffened and he spent himself inside Stiles, both of them riding out the aftershocks for a few moments until they were depleted.

Stiles leaned over and grabbed a towel from the other bedside table, wiping Derek's chest clean before attending to his own. The euphoria of the incredible sex faded into sorrow when he realized it was time for him to go, and the knowledge that he and Derek would be over as soon as he did.

The air was still and they were both quiet when Stiles rolled out of the bed and went after his discarded clothes. Derek didn't look at him as he tossed over a plain gray t-shirt for Stiles to wear home. "I'll wash it as soon as possible," Stiles started to say, but Derek cut him off.

"Keep it," he said brusquely. "Or burn it. I don't care. I don't want it back."

Stiles nodded dumbly, guiding the thin cloth over his head and feeling his chest tighten at the way it smelled so much like Derek. He watched forlornly as Derek tugged on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, the material clinging to every muscle.

Dreading the next few moments, Stiles drifted toward the entrance to the loft, Derek following behind him. His hands were shoved deep inside his pockets and he didn't lift his head until they were a few feet from the door.

"I'm sorry," Stiles began, but Derek's head shot up, his eyes flashing furiously.

"Don't you _ever_ apologize to me for this!" he snapped. Stiles swallowed hard, nodding, and Derek softened, his eyes roaming Stiles' face as if he wanted to memorize every line, every feature. "Do you remember what I told you at first, about how werewolf sexuality is fluid and gender is almost irrelevant?" he asked, his voice wistful.

Stiles nodded. "It's the only reason that it ever made sense that you wanted me," he admitted.

Derek closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and re-opened them. "I was telling you the truth, for wolves in general. But until you, gender was always relevant for _me_."

The moment the realization hit Stiles was both beautiful and painful. "You mean…?"

"You're the only man I've ever been with," Derek clarified quietly. "You're the only one I'll ever be with."

Tears shone in Stiles' eyes when he stepped forward, and Derek's eyes slid closed as he welcomed him into his embrace. Stiles tipped his head up and pressed a soft kiss to Derek's lips, lingering for a moment when Derek's arms tightened around him like steel bands. Eventually Stiles had to break the kiss and Derek reluctantly relaxed his grip, his arms falling to his sides and allowing him to move away.

Stiles didn't bother to wipe away the tears sliding down his cheeks when he stepped back and escaped through the loft door, slamming it behind him. He leaned against the door for a few moments in an effort to compose himself, and the sounds of destruction followed him. An anguished roar reverberated through the walls, accompanied by what had to be the curio cabinet crashing to the floor, glass shattering and wood splintering. He could hear fabric ripping and objects being thrown against the wall, and he realized it was simply an echo of the devastation coursing through him.

Unable to stand listening to the evidence of Derek's rage and pain any longer, Stiles walked away. With every footstep the chasm between the two of them widened; he understood that the moment he stood once again at Lydia's side, there would be no finding his way back across. It nearly killed him, but he couldn't stop. So he took another step, and another.

And left half his heart behind him.

 **A/N 2: Okay, don't kill me. Remember what I say at the beginning of every story, every chapter? The next story is all about building Sterydia, which means that Sterek's story isn't over yet. This is just kind of an intermission. Keep an eye out for The Edge of Perfection, which should be posted next Saturday, as long as the holidays don't interfere.**


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